


you’ve never been loved, i can tell

by jeansomelettes



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Future Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sort Of, but mainly porn tbh, they do the dirty but there's feelings involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23740516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeansomelettes/pseuds/jeansomelettes
Summary: Jean knows a full tummy, soft sheets, and a mother’s endless affection. Eren doesn’t know tenderness if it rips his heart out.set immediately after s3
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Comments: 22
Kudos: 131





	you’ve never been loved, i can tell

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first contribution to the great fandom of SNK, and I only have this measly little porny ficlet to offer. 
> 
> I’m not sure when I decided to be full erejean trash but here we are. this is set immediately after s3, so there’s anime spoilers, but it’s mild. It’s mostly just shameless smut.

According to Jean, his mother is a stout, modest woman with a kind smile. She always has flour on her wrists and rubber band elastics in her hair. She smells like warm bread and a hint of the herbs in the garden, which reminds Jean of his childhood in the fields under the hot sun. Her features are soft, as if almost gently smudged by the thumb of a goddess, a blurry memory in his mind. 

Jean told Eren that he doesn’t remember his mother based on her features. He remembers her arms, wrapped around him, her fingertips on his chin, a kiss on his cheek. The way she hums when she cooks his favourite meals and the calluses on her thumbs when she rubs his neck. He remembers her by scent, feel, and memory. 

Eren knows that Jean knows the comfort of love. He knows a full tummy, soft sheets, and a mother’s endless affection. Eren, on the other hand, doesn’t remember much of his mother, or of love. He doesn’t know tenderness even if it rips his heart out. He doesn’t know tenderness when Mikasa looks at him like he’s the galaxy and the stars, or when Armin holds his hands and makes promises they both know won’t be kept. 

He doesn’t know tenderness when Jean invites him to bed at night, after another day beyond the walls, with a glass of plum wine and a single candlestick lit by his bed. 

Eren walks to Jean’s room after he’s bathed, quietly slipping down the hallway before he reaches the door. His long hair is still damp, sticking to his neck. It’s summer, and the air is humid and hot, the chirp of cicadas outside their quarters and on their windowsills. He’s wearing shirts and an old shirt that’s just shy of too short, throwing the curve of his hipbones into sharp relief.

Jean is waiting for him at his doorway. “Hey,” he says, beaming at him. His face is as expressive as always, his smile wide and brilliant, eyes sparkling with delight at the sight of him. 

Eren swallows and tries to not think about how good Jean looks, in a soft, loose sleep shirt and the candlelight flickering, bathing the room behind him in a soft, warm glow. Eren sucks in a lungful of air before realizing that it’s Jean’s _soap_ he’s smelling, and it’s intoxicating and heavy and familiar – propelling him to memories of writhing around in sheets soaked in that scent and Jean’s hips bruising his ass as he pumps into him. 

“Hey,” he grunts, staring at the top of Jean’s right ear. 

“Want a drink?” 

Eren knows that Jean asks “want a drink” and not “do you wanna drink” because Eren needs to relax his nerves and Jean prefers to stay sharp. Jean _is sharp,_ naturally so, perceptive in everything, from Eren’s emotions, reading a room, and the 3DMG. Eren finds this, along with his other natural skills and competencies, supremely annoying. 

“Fine.” he says, knowing that Jean went through the trouble of getting him some wine, and the knowledge of it is both exhilarating and frightening. He doesn’t move, though. 

If he takes the first step, Jean wins. Then Jean’s hands, his fingers, his mouth, his ass, his cock – it’s something he admits to needing, to wanting, to desiring so deeply in his veins. Eren is many things, but he is too pragmatic to allow himself to want anymore. 

Jean smirks because he knows this game. “You sort of have to come in to do this.” 

Eren looks at him resolutely, silent. 

Jean reaches out and gently tilts his chin up. They’re almost the same height, and this close, it barely makes a difference. What makes Jean appear so much bigger than Eren, so much taller, is that he’s bursting at the seams with quiet confidence, an energy that can only exist after years of nurturing, comfort, and stability. 

“So it’s gonna be like that,” Jean murmurs. This close, Eren can felt every exhale. It honestly should be gross but Jean smells like mint and wine and it’s hot out here in this hallway and the back of his nape is sweaty – he wants to wipe his upper lip but his hands are shaky at his side. He licks his lips unconsciously, the tang of salt sharp on his tongue, and Jean’s eyes flicker down, not as unaffected as he’s been letting on. 

“It’s gonna be like that,” Eren confirms, smirking. 

Jean pauses, and then takes a step back. The gap between their bodies is sudden and leaves Eren wanting, and he barely has time to register it before Jean is in front of him again, cradling his neck. 

“Wha–” 

Jean presses his mouth against his and Eren feels his tongue easing his own mouth open. There’s a sudden gush of liquid sliding down his throat – it’s full-bodied and rich – _the plum wine_. 

“You bastard,” Eren gasps out. “Are you trying to choke me?” 

“If you shut your mouth and just swallowed like you’re supposed to, you wouldn’t be choking.” 

“Right,” Eren says, even as Jean lifts the glass, his other hand still clasped on his nape. His skin is tingling. “You’d love it if I shut my mouth and just swallowed.” 

Jean smirks. “Among other things.” 

This time, Eren is prepared. Jean leans in, and he receives the wine, reveling in the startled moan Jean makes when he presses against his body, inching a thigh up against the swelling of his cock. Jean is an easy slut when it comes to physical touch. He yearns for it, loves it, is panting for Eren’s hands in no time. This game, Eren knows all too well.

Jean backs up into his room and Eren follows, attacking Jean’s neck with heated lips, trailing his hands up his muscled, lean back. Even through his shirt, Eren can feel his heartbeat. It’s fucking hot how riled up he can get him with a few simple touches. He keeps pushing, nipping at Jean’s mouth and swallowing his pants until he feels Jean’s legs stuttering as they near the bed. 

Jean pulls away long enough to carefully place the glass on a table, then both of his big hands come up to cradle Eren’s face. He slows the pace by pulling him in for a tender kiss, inhaling sharply as he softly kisses along Eren’s jawline, twisting his fingers in his long hair. 

This is when the tides change. This is when the tides always change. Because Eren can grit through broken bones, missing teeth, scars, burns, and excruciating pain, but when it comes to the whisper of a lover’s touch, he falls apart. 

Jean starts a trail of kisses down his neck, gently easing Eren’s top off, fingers fluttering over the curves and lines of his abs. It’s barely a tickle, but it leaves a burning path on Eren’s skin. He shudders clings to Jean’s broad shoulders, exhaling sharply at every touch, flexing his muscles to the thundering of his heartbeat. 

Jean laughs, delighted. “Good boy,” he rumbles. “Doing so well for me.” 

This is where it begins. Eren feels a heated flush creep up his neck, the words tickling his spine. Jean talks a lot of shit, he sounds like a fucking idiot most of the time, and Eren’s learned to tune him out and respond to his fire with balance. But this, when Jean’s voice honeys out and he’s careful and quiet, Eren can’t help but want to snap his strings of control and pull him apart. 

Jean notices.

“Yeah,” He breathes, “you’re such a little slut for some pillowtalk, aren’t you? Can’t even compliment you without that greedy dick of yours asking for more.” He reaches down to grab at Eren through his shorts, fingers long and confident and oh god – _more –_

Eren gasps out a noise that’s barely human. “Jean,” he whispers, bucking his hips. 

“Oh it’s ‘Jean,’ now?” Jean says, mockingly sweet. He reaches into Eren’s shorts and grips his cock viciously. “Earlier today it was ‘smug asshole,’ or was it ‘arrogant idiot’?” 

“It was ‘oblivious moron,’” Eren gasps out, mind hazy and cloudy with desire but still sharp, and that earns him a laugh, low and wet and breathless, and _fuck_ he can feel Jean’s dick now, hard against his hip and it’s perfect and beautiful and it makes his mouth water – 

He feels gravity a moment too late when he’s pushed unceremoniously onto the bed, his shirt still hanging off one arm, his shorts pulled down to expose the head of his leaking cock. 

Jean is standing at the edge of the bed, and he stares at Eren as he whips off his shirt, muscles flexing, a fine trail of blonde hair gleaming underneath his navel. Without any hesitation or bashfulness he turns around and pushes his pants to his ankles, exposing that ass to Eren’s hungry gaze. Eren has a sudden urge to bite into an asscheek and pin Jean’s face to the bed. 

Eren notices Jean staring and shivers under his gaze. “What?” he snaps. 

“Nothing,” Jean says casually. “You’re just so beautiful.”  
  
Eren hates himself for flushing at those words, internally purring with pleasure as Jean just stands there and jacks himself off, steady and rough. Words die in his throat. He’ll never get over this view, no matter how many times his body goes through the torture of turning into a titan, or how many times he needs to come back into his human body. It’s worth it just to see Jean like this, biting his lip and giving himself long strokes as he walks towards Eren. 

“Take off your clothes.” 

It’s not a request. Eren swallows thickly, catching Jean’s heated gaze. Jean doesn’t like to ask more than once. He’s a spoiled fucking mama’s boy, born and bred in the big city, where he got all of life’s necessities at a moment’s notice. Eren both resents and adores him for it. 

Eren doesn’t falter. He strips off his shirt and shorts quickly and lies down on the bed, slowly letting his legs fall apart. He flushes. He feel so vulnerable. In this position, he feels like a dog in heat, panting for more. 

Jean is pleased. He gives Eren another blinding smile. “Fucking perfect,” he says, “look at you.” 

Jean is the one who’s perfect, Eren knows this. Jean is the one with the casual elegance, all long limbs and lean muscle that’s gotten him to the top of the ranks with the 3DMG. With the perfect, capable hands that can whip up breakfast as well as they can make Eren scream. With that easy, good-looking face that’s both generic and breathtaking, innocent and deadly. 

But Eren can’t say anything right now. He’s enamoured with the way Jean looks when he wants him like this, so openly. He lets Jean slide between his legs and cup his balls, squeezing gently. 

“I’ve been drooling over this body all week,” Jean whispers shamelessly. “And there’s so much I could do with you today.” 

Eren doesn’t say anything, knows that Jean isn’t looking for an answer. Jean likes to talk shit, after all. And most of the time, it’s just a city boy’s way of coming to terms with his own feelings.

“I keep thinking about that ass of yours,” Jean muses aloud, and rubs the head of Eren’s slick cock for good measure. He leans down unabashedly and licks a hot stripe up the underside of Eren’s dick, moaning, making Eren bite his bottom lip.

“But then I thought,” Jean says, his lips fluttering against Eren’s slick cock head. His hips jerk and he closes his eyes, unable to bear the sight of Jean’s pink, flush mouth around his dick. “This dick of yours is fucking glorious. And I’m really out to make you scream tonight.” 

Eren resents him for assuming he’s going to be loud tonight, just like how he resents him for assuming it every night. 

“You can fuck my ass all night,” Eren replies, “but I’m keeping my mouth shut.” 

Jean laughs lightly, but he’s panting a bit, grabbing some lubricant and drizzling a generous amount onto his palms. Some of it drips onto Eren’s thighs, sticking to the fine peach fuzz on his skin, messy and wet. 

“Maybe you can keep that control when my dick is your ass,” Jean says, “I’m not offended by that.” He’s smug as he rubs Eren’s dick with his oil before raising himself up onto his knees. 

Eren’s cock is so hard he’s aching, leaking as he watches Jean straddle him. 

“If you’re going to fuck me just get it over with,” Eren says hotly, patience wearing thin. 

“Oh I intend to,” Jean replies. And then, without warning, Eren sees him reach behind himself and Jean’s face is suddenly slack with pleasure, his mouth flush and open and wet and – oh god – 

At this angle, Eren can’t really see what Jean’s doing but his expressions are saying it all, along with the rhythmic rocking of his hips. Jean has a finger stuffed into his ass while he’s straddling him, his cock bumping into Eren’s, slipping against each other. 

Jean’s gasping mouth, his wide eyes, almost shocked at the amount of pleasure, the stretch, it’s all too much. Eren slams his head back and squeezes his eyes shut, his fists clenched tight. 

“I intend you,” Jean repeats, gasping, “But I’m going to ride you until you cry, and then you’re going to let me come all over you.” 

Eren’s cock jerks and he feels as Jean grabs his cock and lines it up with himself. Then Jean is sinking down – too fast – and it’s hot and slick and _tight_ and Jean does _not bottom_ , he doesn’t bottom for Eren, and he must feel it because he lets out a wounded noise that’s both animalistic and heartbreaking at the same time –

“Stop,” Eren gasps, hands scrabbling at his hips even though his brain is short-circuiting and saying _please more don’t stop god,_ “Jean, baby, stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.” 

Jean sinks down in one fluid motion and makes a sound that Eren has never heard before – not when he’s balls deep in Eren’s ass or when Eren is choking on his dick – this vulnerable, shuddering, rattling sound that echoes around the room that is so much, too much for him. Eren can’t help himself, his hips jerk and his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head.

“Wha – do you think – _ah –_ I was doing while I was waiting, idiot?” Jean hisses, but he’s smiling tenderly. “I knew your impatient dick wasn’t going to be able to wait.” 

So Jean had stretched himself beforehand. Jean, who has barely ever taken it up the ass, skipped dinner and spent his evening prepping himself _for Eren._ The knowledge of this, combined with the pure vice-like grip around his dick, hot and pulsating, is enough to make his head spin. 

Eren blinks rapidly, feeling a prick at the back of his eyes, emotions swelling up in ribcage and threatening to break his chest open. Jean looks sweaty – not unlike how he’d look after a session of sparring or training – and his skin is flushed and dewy. He’s struggling with taking Eren’s cock, he can tell, Jean’s thighs straining with the effort of holding himself up. 

Eren tries to not let his mind wander, squirming. He wonders if Jean’s thinking about Marco right now in between his legs, or maybe Mikasa’s black hair against the soft sheets. If he still dreams about Marco in the dead of the night, waking up in cold sweats with tear streaks down his face. Or if he would still lay himself down and welcome the cold edge of death to keep Mikasa safe, without blinking an eye. Jean has given his heart to so many, and expected nothing in return. And he’s given it to Eren, who can’t hold onto it, or protect it, and cherish it the way it should. It hurts Eren to think about it. 

But then Jean puts a hand on Eren’s cheek and starts to _move_ and all the thoughts fade in his head _._

The rocking of his hips is enough to make Eren want to bite into a pillow, the sudden rhythm aggressive and blinding, the slap of their skin obscene in the silence. It’s slippery, it’s hot, and the candle has long burned out, but their shadows are still visible on the wall, a dance that only lasts until the light fades. 

They’ve both wanted this for so long that it’s not going to take long at all, their bodies tight and wound up and already sloppy in their passion. Eren is blabbing something, he’s not quite sure what, but it’s a mix of Jean’s name and _oh right there, yes, good, please more, baby, don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop –_

His eyes are blurry and he can’t wipe them – it’s his sweat or Jean’s sweat or it’s _tears,_ and he feels all of Jean right now. His body, his ass, his scent, his hands, they’ve consumed Eren’s entire being and existence. 

Jean is wailing, biting through his lower lip and whining as Eren responds to his thrusts and grabs his hips for leverage. At this angle, Jean is controlling most of the pace, and Eren can only go along for the ride. 

When Jean comes, he leans down and gasps tight breaths into Eren’s panting mouth. It only takes a few more thrusts before he’s spilling, pulling out to splatter all over Eren’s abs, ropes of cum marking him. Eren follows suit silently, feeling the way Jean’s ass flutters against his cock and the strength of his muscles as he tries to stay upright. 

They lie there for a while, their breaths slowing down together before they are on the same cadence, slow and measured. At some point, Jean procures a warm, damp towel, and makes Eren lie still while he wipes his body, gently dragging the soft towel around his cock and balls. It tingles and it’s oddly intimate. Eren doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he just lies there awkwardly. 

Jean finally makes eye contact. He is still a bit flushed, and his hair is sticking up at all ends.He’s beautiful, Eren realizes, and he doesn’t even know it. 

He sighs, resigned when he acknowledges this fact time and time again. His hips feel tight and he shifts gingerly, feeling the soreness of his muscles tightening in response. 

“We’ll have to do this again,” Jean half jokes, averting his gaze. “In the future.” 

In the future. The big hole of blackness of a word that used to mean something. It used to mean the sea. It used to mean peace, a forever that could span the world beyond the walls. Now, he doesn’t know what it means. 

Jean and Mikasa can move on. And that’s what they should do. Together. No matter how much they love Eren, they need to find a path that continues. And they can’t do it with Eren. 

Eren lies there, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t think you’ve truly thought out how this is going to play out for you in the future.” He says simply. 

There’s a long silence, their slow breathing the only sound in the room. A breeze creeps in from an open window, gently rustling the curtains. He thinks Jean is almost asleep but then –

“I don’t.” Jean’s voice is quiet. “I don’t think about what will happen in the future.” 

Eren is silent.

Jean shrugs and Eren feels his body move against him, warm and comforting. He smells like Jean and it makes Eren’s breathing slow, and his voice is an echo in his mind, even as he closes his eyes and he’s in the dark. “The only thing that makes sense to me is the next seven years.”

Without realizing what he’s doing, Eren grabs Jean’s hands and squeezes. This hand, the one that’s pulled him out of the shadows, the one that’s never afraid to push back, the one that never lets go when they’re at the edge of the world, squeezes back. It feels like a reply. 

Jean knows what love is. And Eren will have to learn. 

**Author's Note:**

> questions, comments, feedback, and constructive criticism are always welcome! 
> 
> All my stuff ends up being angsty and I really don’t mean for it to be. But I've always loved the dynamic between Eren and Jean and I really like the idea of Jean just being a cocky, arrogant, unlikeable city boy with a mother who’s always on his side and maybe a bit of a delusional outlook on life that finally simmers when he gets older. He’s grown so much in this series and I can imagine his dumb tender heart trying to find ways to make Eren feel loved. Anyway, that’s all I have to say about that thank you for coming to my ted talk.
> 
> also I’m on the bird app: @jeansomelettes


End file.
